


Attend Me: Vignettes of a Captive Prince

by itspixiesthings



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Canon Divergent, D/s, Damen is more submissive than in canon, Discipline, Kink, Laurent is more Dominant than in canon, M/M, Master/Slave, Sadism, Whump, shifted dynamic, spoiler warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-12 00:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19217605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itspixiesthings/pseuds/itspixiesthings
Summary: What if Damen had been a little more unruly? What if Laurent had been just a little more vicious? And what if, when all is said and done, their relationship never quite shook the power dynamics with which it had started?This is a series of speculative alternatives to various scenes in Captive Prince. Basically I wanted to add more whump and more power dynamics to the story, so this is intended as "what if" scenarios within the canon of the novels themselves.





	1. BOOK 1 CHAPTER 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Laurent tells Damen to crawl, Damen refuses.  
>  _\-- This takes place during Chapter 1 of Captive Prince, and is an alternate/extended version of the final scene --_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted Damen to display a bit more rebellion here; instead of being beaten for hesitating, he's beaten for outright refusing >;3
> 
>  **How to read these:** The bolded lines indicate where in the chapter they begin, and where they end. They function as replacements within the chapter between those indicated lines, so sometimes these bits don't have functional beginnings or endings of their own, as they are meant to be read in conjunction with the chapter around them. (Basically, to get the full Experience of this fic, you would read the whole trilogy but substitute my alternate scenes into the canon text to get a slightly different dynamic and tone to the story)

**“No,” said Laurent, with smug satisfaction and a nasty curl to his lips. “Crawl.”**

_Crawl._

It was as though everything ground to a halt in the face of that single order. The part of Damen's mind that told him he must feign obedience was now drowned out by his pride. He knew he should comply, knew that no slave in all of Akeilos would _not_ comply with such an order, but his heart sunk into his stomach at the thought of actually doing it. Crawl? On the ground, like a dog, at the word of his enemy?  
  
His jaw set, his teeth clenched in a wordless display of the tension he felt. The moment lingered between them, Laurent gazing at him with cool eyes that were neither encouraging nor expectant. Just waiting. Laurent had laid down the challenge; now it was Damen's move.  
  
He could feel his body tremble a little from the strain of the decision, as he parted his lips to say, “No.”  
  
No sooner had Laurent's eyes gone to the guard at his side, an almost imperceptible nod given, than Damen found himself sent sprawling onto his hands and knees. The ground crashed into him violently, as the guards forced him down, their hands on his back to keep him from rising. There was already a sharp sting in his knees from the impact, when a fist connected with his jaw, sending the room spinning around him. A second blow came, and then a boot to his ribs, and for a brief moment all that registered was pain. He coughed, sputtering for a moment, willing himself back to composure. He had to take it, for now. Take it, and _wait._  
  
All the while, Laurent looked on, his eyes cold, and his expression calculating. It was as though he were memorizing every single small detail of Damen's pain. His expressions, the way his body flinched, the heave of his chest. All of it for the Prince's amusement.

As blood dripped from his lip onto the tiles beneath him, he heard Laurent begin to speak again. “You were insolent this afternoon, too. That is a habit that can be cured. With a horse whip.” Damen let the threat sink in. The taste of copper was still heavy on his tongue, and the prospect of further pain was not appealing. Laurent tilted his head as he regarded him, watching for any small hints of weakness that might be exploited.  
  
When Damen did not respond, the Prince's voice broke the silence once more. “I'll tell you again. _Crawl to me.”_ This time there was an edge to his voice, something more hard, and sharper than the smug satisfaction of a man with an enemy in his power like the first time. This time the command carried the weight of threat, the more sinister promise of retribution upon refusal.  
  
Everything in him still rebelled at the idea. He knew it would be wise of him to obey, wise not to further anger the man who held him in his power. It would be wise to maintain his secret, not give the Prince any reason to suspect he was anyone other than a common slave. It would be wise to earn himself some amount of clemency, if he wanted an opportunity for escape to ever present itself. But as watched the blood running down his chin onto the floor, he felt his pride flare up once again.

He looked up at Laurent, letting his eyes meet his enemies in an act of boldness that no slave would ever have dared, glaring up in defiance, and said again, _“No.”_  
  
A new round of pain washed over him as the guards were given permission to deal out the punishment for the disrespect. Boot tips connected with his gut, making him gasp in agony as the breath left his lungs. He was vaguely aware of Laurent's voice speaking, “Lift his head back. I want to see his face.”  
  
Those words filled the room a moment before hands clenched in his hair and jerked him back by the neck so he could see the full view of the man serenely watching the beating play out. There was no expression on Laurent's features to indicate he was affected by the show.  
  
After a few more moments Laurent raised his hand and said, “Stop.” Damen was not so naive as to think it was an act of mercy; surely this would be a brief respite and nothing more, a pause to further taunt him. The Prince's gaze was tracking over his body, observing the way his clothes hung open now thanks to the rough treatment, revealing the skin of his torso.  
  
“You have a scar.” Laurent remarked, his eyes lingering on the streak of marred flesh just below his left collar bone. Damen felt the first stir of real danger then, the flicker of his own quickening pulse. Laurent was dangerously close to his secret, though his eyes betrayed none of his thoughts.  
  
**“I- served in the army.” He manged to choke the words out through the pain. It wasn't a lie.**

 


	2. BOOK 1 CHAPTER 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being flogged once, Damen apologizes.  
>  _\-- This takes place during Chapter 3 of Captive Prince, and is an alternate/extended version of the final scene --_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wanted to know what would have happened if Damen had been just a _little_ more breakable here, if he might have saved himself a second flogging if he'd apologized for his earlier actions. I think Laurent may have let him off without a second flogging if he had, but at the cost of his dignity ;)

**“I see we have stopped too early. _Again.”_ **  
  
Laurent's voice was cold as he made the proclamation to prolong Damen's suffering. But the threat of the pain was not what made his mind halt.  
  
“Wait.” He called out the moment the gag would have been pulled once again between his teeth. Even with his outburst it still would have been if Laurent hadn't raised a hand to stall the man who stood behind him, ready to administer further punishment at the word of his Prince. Laurent still stood before him, silently observing him, his eyes mapping him like a territory to conquer.  
  
As Damen strained to look up at him he remembered the words Laurent had spoken in the baths. _'But my voice has broken. That was the only prerequisite, wasn't it?'  
_  
Damen's cheeks flushed with the remembered the feeling, the shame and guilt of what he had almost done. “I want... I want you to know that I wasn't going to- I never would have-” _Never would have raped you. Or anyone._ For all the anger and frustration and hurt pride that surged through him now, he knew that at least, what Laurent was accusing him of was unthinkable. “I'm sorry.”  
  
It stung to say it. Especially after everything Laurent had already done to him, to apologize to the man who had just had the skin taken off of his back. His jaw clenched in rebellion to the words that left his lips, and his entire body was taut from the strain of so reluctantly letting go of his pride to admit his error.  
  
_“Are_ you?” Laurent's eyes narrowed for the briefest of moments, as though he were absorbing the apology. His expression cleared after a few lingering seconds had passed, his arms crossing firmly over his chest. “I am afraid that the word of a man in pain, and fearful of further retribution, means frightfully little.”  
  
Damen couldn't help but growl in frustration at that. He ground his teeth, struggling to take in a shaking breath, push past the pain. “That's not it.” He met Laurent's eyes, glaring at him in a way that he knew was insolent, but he didn't care. He couldn't stop the Prince from visiting any manner of continued agony on him now. “Hurt me all you want, because you can, but I want you to know that I would never have done that.” Another deep breath, another painful admission. “I forgot myself, for a moment, and I'm sorry.”

It wasn't that it was Laurent that made it wrong of him... it was that it was anyone. Damen had never even considered attempting to take someone against their will, but then, he'd never exactly had someone he was attracted to be unwilling... before today. Not that he'd been seriously contemplating sleeping with the Prince of Vere, not really. But the baths had startled him, his own arousal had taken him by surprise. It had been a momentary lapse in composure, one he was paying for now not only in pain, but in shame.

Laurent tilted his head, staring at him with that unbearably unreadable expression of his for a long moment. Finally, his voice even and his gaze steadily holding Damen's own, he pronounced, “I don't believe you.”  
  
“Then have me flogged again.” Damen braced himself, now fully ready to accept the continued agony with a clear conscience. He clenched his fists, let himself feel the rough wood of the post beneath him, let the bindings dig into his skin. _“Get it over with.”_

There was a long pause, during which time Damen felt the horrible anticipation of another blow that did not come. He'd closed his eyes, and only opened them in a startled stupor when he heard Laurent's voice. “Get him off the post. Put him on his knees.”  
  
There was not a moment wasted after the command was given. The man who'd been administering the flogging untied his binds, and Damen felt strong hands manipulating his body. It hurt when he was moved, and he couldn't help but cry out as fresh pain washed over him. He was deposited just as Laurent had requested he be: On his knees on the cold ground. He was vaguely aware of flecks of blood on the stone floor, blood from the lash that had bit into his back only minutes before.  
  
Then Laurent spoke again, and any shred of relief he might have felt at the change of his situation was siphoned from him. “Why don't you prove just how sorry you are? Change my mind, before I do have you flogged for a second time.” As Laurent spoke, Damen felt his heart sinking, felt his stomach flipping in his chest. He knew that the next thing that came would be worse. And then there it was.  
  
_“Crawl to me.”_  
  
Damen felt like his heart had stopped for a moment, and then it was beating so hard in his chest it was the only sound he could hear. The room seemed to echo with it, vibrate with it, beat in time with it. _Crawl._ The same order he had been given the first day he'd met the Prince of Vere. The same order he had been beaten for refusing. And now, it was being given again, and with his character on the line for it.  
  
He looked up again, and Laurent was frowning at him, an expression of consternation upon his features, like Damen was a puzzle he couldn't figure out. Damen felt his throat swallow, closing around a lump of pain and splintered dignity. His body hurt, his mind was reeling, the frustrated decision between wounded pride or wounded honour. He took a deep breath, considering his options, and finally, after painful deliberation, slowly extended one hand in front of himself.  
  
He couldn't look up at Laurent any more. Couldn't bare to see the smug victory that he knew he would find in those haughty eyes. Instead he kept his gaze on the ground. Each movement made sent his back swimming in pain. He could feel the blood dripping down his sides as the skin was disturbed by the crawling motion, the sway of his shoulders and the gait of his thighs. Still he did it, panting and cringing and biting his lip to keep himself from crying out in misery.

It seemed like a mile to where Laurent stood, patiently waiting for him, the room silent save for Damen's ragged breathing. He didn't know how long it took. All he knew was that when a pair of perfect boots came into his line of sight, he stopped. And waited.  
  
He didn't have to wait long from that point. Fingers laced themselves through his hair, and there was a sudden and painful yank on his scalp that pulled his head back and had him very immediately once again making eye contact with the Prince. Laurent's face was twisted in a look that somehow blended disgust with vicious victory.  
  
“You're sorry?” Laurent breathed the question, though it was not posed as though he wanted an answer. He was stooped over him, and Damen had never felt quite this powerless in his life, not even strapped to the flogging post, or in chains in the slave baths. Laurent smiled, an altogether unpleasant smile. “You wouldn't have done it? You're not that kind of man?” His tone was sweet... too sweet. Like poison. Damen was sure, again, that something infinitely worse was coming.  
  
“Then you'll agree with me that the punishment for your behaviour was fair.” Laurent was still smiling, and now his fingers had started slowly stroking Damen's hair with a gesture openly mocking of affection. “So _thank_ me for administering it.”  
  
Damen's heart pounded in his chest. Pain was still coursing through his body, and he had already come so far. But this was too much. He breathed, slow and torturous breaths, unable to form words, or do anything but stare into the eyes of his tormentor. Who knew, after all, just how far Laurent would take this humiliating farce of discipline even if he said it? His hands clenched at his sides and the stink of his own blood still lingered in the air.  
  
Damen wasn't sure how long Laurent waited, how many minutes went by with the two of them at a standstill, an impasse. Finally Laurent's brows raised as though in surprise and his lips parted. _“No?”_ Despite knowing it was the only way to prevent further pain, Damen couldn't, _wouldn't_ speak. Finally Laurent released him, flinging him to the side with a colder expression, one of bored disinterest.  
  
“Flog him again.”  
  
Damen felt barely cognizant of the words being spoken, disoriented as footsteps came towards him from behind. He expected to be immediately manhandled back to his feet and dragged to the post, but the man seemed to hesitate.  
  
**“Your Highness, I'm not certain he will survive another round.”**


	3. BOOK 1 CHAPTER 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Laurent finds out that Damen cares enough for his fellow Akeilon slaves to sacrifice his pride, he makes certain to well take advantage of the fact.  
>  _\-- This takes place during Chapter 7 of Captive Prince, and is an alternate/extended version of the first and second scenes --_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wished that Laurent would push Damen a little harder than he does, so here's the continuation I desperately wanted to the first scene of the chapter, and a bit of an extended beginning to the second <3

**“I can end this any time I like? I haven't even begun.”**  
  
Laurent's words sent a chill through Damen's spine. He was already tense, adrenaline rushing through his body, making him feel on edge. He watched Laurent like one might watch an opponent in the ring; ready for his move.  
  
When it came, it was with a derisive sneer and a cold gaze of superiority. “On your knees, slave.” Laurent commanded him, and he had known it was coming, but it still made him flinch. This time there was no recourse, no way to refuse. More than just his own safety was on the line now, and he himself had given that advantage to Laurent. Like a fool, he had served it up to him on a silver platter. He slowly sank again to his knees, and instead of keeping eye contact, he forced himself to again bow his head.  
  
The next time he heard Laurent's voice, it was much closer. The Prince had, rather daringly, stepped right up to him, only an arm's length distance between them. Or it would have been daring, if Laurent was not well aware that there was nothing Damen could do now. It was the move of someone with power and control and the absolute confidence to use it.  
  
“I think I rather like this new attitude of deference you're sporting.” The tone was almost mocking, if it wasn't so cold. “Obedience suits you.” Even as Laurent spoke, Damen didn't dare lift his eyes. He was shaking from the strain of wondering what new humiliation the Prince might have in store for him next, his stomach in knots and his pride now fully crushed. He watched as the tip of Laurent's boot slowly slid into his view. “Kiss it.”  
  
He swallowed. He had done this once before, in full view of witnesses, of the court. It had been, at the time, his only way to maintain an advantage. Now, it would be an admission of defeat. Damen took a deep breath, and lowered himself further, stooping his back to bring himself down to the level of the man's boot. He paused only for a brief moment before he pressed his lips to the leather surface.  
  
Quick, chaste, reverent. Everything that a display of obeisance should be. Just as he had done before. As he lifted, he felt Laurent's hand slide onto his head, and wanted to pull away from the indignation of being treated with such condescension. Instead he willed himself to stay in place.  
  
“Oh, very good.” Laurent's tone was hardly praising. More like a pretense of praise. “But you'll have to do better than you did after the ring.” There was a pause, during which Damen felt his body stiffen in anxious anticipation, and then, _“Lick_ it.”  
  
Damen felt his breathing begin to come in heavier as he looked at the boot again, his chest constricting, his mind revolting at the very idea. He couldn't possibly.... And then Laurent's earlier words flashed through his mind.

 _'Would it hurt worse than a lashing if I cut down someone you care about?'_  
  
He wouldn't do it if it was to save his own skin. But it wasn't just his own skin that was on the line, now. He bent again, this time extending his tongue. He almost halted on the initial contact, forcing himself to continue by sheer will power, and dragged his tongue along the surface. The taste of leather was strong, and he had to remind himself again and again why he was doing this in order to keep himself moving.  
  
“Slower than that.” Laurent taunted him, “Like you really _mean_ it. I want to see my reflection shine on it's surface by the time you're done, do you understand me?” His words made Damen want to lash out, to spit on the ground, to reach out to throttle him. But he didn't. He listened to Laurent's instructions, felt his face heating in flushed embarrassment as he slowed down, made a better show of it, worked his way up the leg of the boot.  
  
“Look at you, working your tongue like a good little whore. Your pride must be absolutely _burning.”_ At that Damen's eyes flew open, peering up at his captor with rage sparking in his vision. Laurent smiled in response. _“Ooh,_ the look of hatred you just threw me says that it is. Are they really worth it? A handful of slaves?” Damen didn't dignify that with a reply. “Well you better exert yourself, because their safety rests on how well you can convince me.”  
  
Damen felt his heart sinking at those words, and pushed himself to do more, to take more, to forget his pride, to do as Laurent told him. He hated it. Hated the taste, the feel, the burning shame and the way that Laurent watched every single second of it with rapt attention like he was a performing animal. He hated Laurent for it and he hated himself for his own helplessness and inability to do anything else but submit to such treatment.  
  
Finally, after Damen did not know how long, Laurent yanked him up off of his boot by the chin. “That's enough.” He found himself almost dazed as he looked up into the eyes of the Prince. “You will stay kneeling like that. All night. If you move from that obeisance before you have been given leave, you will not like what will happen to your little friends.”  
  
Laurent stepped away from him then, leaving him still kneeling on the hard ground. Laurent certainly seemed to enjoy making him kneel. Damen's entire body was already aching from the strain of the position, and the thought of holding it all night long was far from pleasant. He gathered himself, getting ready to accustom himself once again to pain.  
  
As Laurent left, Damen could hear him talking outside the door, his voice farther away but just as pronounced. “If he moves from that position, even for a moment, notify me at once.”  
  
And then he was gone. The guards entered the room again only to extinguish the torches, and Damen was left in darkness, his body already protesting at what was going to be a very long night.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 **“Leave us.” said Laurent. He spoke to the handlers who had brought Damen to this chamber. They freed Damen from his restraints and departed.**   
  
Laurent's eyes passed over him with the same kind of practiced gaze, that seemed to see more than the man let on, as always. Damen felt somehow more vulnerable now, like a part of himself had been exposed to the Prince's inspection that he was uncomfortable with. He felt naked.

Laurent smiled. “You've probably never done a menial task in your life, have you?” His assessment was not untrue. Damen shifted uncomfortably, waiting for whatever fresh shame the Prince might command of him. "Well that's going to change. I'm going to work you to the bone. I don't think you'll prove too stupid to learn.”  
  
Then, his hand gestured to the side of the room, where Damen's attention was drawn to a bucket filled with water and a cloth hanging on it's side. He frowned, piecing together a little too slowly Laurent's meaning.  
  
“Wash the floor.” Laurent leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes never left Damen as Damen moved towards the bucket, almost reluctantly scooping it into his hands. The water was warm, and smelled of soaps. He knew that a servant who would normally have done this task had likely been excused, specifically so that the Prince could make his Akeilon slave take it up in their stead. How thoughtful of him.  
  
He was about to start, pushing the cloth into the water, when Laurent spoke again, interrupting him. “When you are given a command, the proper address is 'Yes, your Highness.'” He turned to see the Prince still lounging with his hip resting against the archway, watching him.

Flush raised on his cheeks and he bit his tongue to prevent himself from firing off a less than deferent retort, and instead simply repeated back to him, _“Yes, your Highness.”_  
  
Then he dropped again to his knees and began the task of cleaning the floor. For a moment it seemed like the Prince would stay where he was and watch him the entire time, but after some minutes of observing him he went back into the bedchamber, leaving Damen to continue unsupervised.  
  
Frustration pooled in Damen's gut. He hated that he had no choice but to play along with Laurent's fancies now, to demean himself like this, so far beneath his station. The taste of defeat was bitter, and it made him want to choke on it. But instead he made himself focus on the task at hand; scrubbing at the stone surface of the floor, over and over until his shoulders ached and his hands felt raw and pruned from the water. Blisters were already forming in places that he'd never had blisters before, the rough texture of the cloth grating against the skin of his fingers.  
  
Then Laurent was in the door frame again, and as he looked up Damen observed that this time he was fully dressed. It had taken him some time, and Damen judged that he had gotten at least a quarter of the room's floors scrubbed in the span of time that the Prince had been in the other room. Veretian clothing were, after all, over complicated and time consuming to either don or shed.  
  
“Why are you stopping? Put your back into it.” Laurent was frowning at him, his eyes going to the amount of work Damen had already accomplished. “I know you're healed enough now that it shouldn't be impossible.”  
  
Damen quickly ducked his head again, to avoid saying or doing anything that might catch the Prince's ire, and this time Laurent did stand and watch. He told him when he'd missed a spot, berated him for not pushing hard enough, and remarked with not a small amount of glee on his posture and position on hands and knees. Damen wanted to punch his teeth in for it. Instead he worked as instructed.

Then, finally, when almost half of the room was finished, Laurent halted him with a single command. “That's enough. Stand up.”

**Damen stood.**


	4. BOOK 2 CHAPTER 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After long weeks on campaign, as their time together draws to a close, Laurent finally commands Damen to his bed for one last night.  
>  _\-- This takes place during Chapter 19 of Prince's Gambit, and is an alternate version of the final scene --_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we come to their first sex scene! I wanted to write a version where Laurent takes more control over the encounter, so while the blow by blow of the physical events is similar, there's a shift in tone and power here from canon.

**“Adequate.”**   
  
Laurent drawled the word, casually, as though he hadn't just ripped Daman apart with nothing but his hand. Damen was still sputtering, shaking, panting. He bristled a little, his pride stung by the echo of what he himself had said, what seemed like now so long ago. He flushed, embarrassed to remember it.

As Laurent began to rise from the bed, he reached out and caught his wrist. He'd done this before, to stop a blow, a knife strike, but this time was different. This time he reached for him, almost as a child might, and grasped hold of him gently. Laurent's hand caught in his own, keeping him from leaving his side. “Kiss me.” Damen said, breathless, eyes pleading.  
  
His voice was still thick with desire, pleasure still strumming through his whole body from the ways Laurent had just touched him, drawn from him his ecstasy. He sat himself up on his elbows, as though his whole body was yearning, aching for more of Laurent's.  
  
He watched Laurent's eyes pan over his form, the way he might have studied him time and time over, only now it was different. It wasn't with disgust and consternation, now. Now it was more open, more appreciating, more... desiring.  
  
“Kiss me... _please?”_ He tried again, feeling like he might go mad without more, more of Laurent, more of his hands, his body, his breath on his skin. He didn't think he had ever wanted anyone nearly as much as he wanted Laurent now.  
  
Laurent's gaze slowly, gradually, lowered from his eyes, to his lips. Damen felt his breath catch in his throat as he watched it, as Laurent began to move towards him, closer and closer with each shuddering breath. He didn't dare move for fear of shattering the moment, waking from the dream. Instead he closed his eyes, waiting on Laurent to close the gap between them.

Laurent's lips parted his own, invasive, conquering. It was every bit as possessive as his hand had been clasped around his length, like Damen was his to explore, to own, to _take._ He had never had a lover kiss like that, open him like that, _seize_ him like that.  
  
He kissed back. He reached for him, slid his fingers through his hair, grasped his head and drew him closer. Laurent did not pull away. Damen gave as good as he had been given, letting his tongue slip between Laurent's lips. It was a breathless moment of pure wonder, exploring and tasting this man who had been his enemy for so, so long, and whom he had come, despite everything, to admire and respect. To yearn for.  
  
He let his hands slowly begin to move down Laurent's body, tentatively reaching for him. Damen felt almost overwhelmed entirely by the voraciousness of his own need, his own desperate desire. He was naked, and Laurent was still clothed, still untouchable and unshakable. Just as he always was. He remembered how Laurent had looked in the baths, how the water shined on his skin, how perfectly proportioned his body was, and he ached to touch it, to feel it under his fingertips.

He hadn't realized at the time how rare, how intimate it was to see the Prince of Vere in any state other than perfectly placed perfection. He knew now. A wave of jealousy washed over him as he remembered the servant he had seen attending Laurent earlier, and realized with a pang in his heart that he wanted nothing more than for Laurent to favour _him_ with that honour, and nobody else.

Laurent sat up, slowly breaking away from him, and Damen's eyes widened slightly as he watched him slowly take his hand and draw it to the ties at the collar of his shirt. His voice low and husky, Laurent murmured, _“Attend me.”_  
  
Damen did as he was told. He had done this enough times now, had attended the Prince as his slave enough that he knew each intricacy of the garment, each tie and fastening. Slowly, reverently, he pulled the lacing loose, and Laurent's skin came into view, perfect and pristine. His breath caught in his throat, he couldn't help but gasp at the sight as it came into his view, this time with more meaning than ever before.  
  
He pulled the garments free from his form, marveling at the beautiful, fit, and lean body beneath his hands. Laurent was flushed, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his nipples hard, showing the signs of arousal. He was looking at him with a bemused quirk to his lips, and softly said, “Did you think I was made of stone?”  
  
Damen flushed, drawing in a breath as his eyes moved to Laurent's face. “The thought had crossed my mind.”  
  
Laurent lay down on the bed, still watching him, still commanding him with nothing but his eyes. He lounged, leg up and hand above his head, like one accustomed to being waited on. The look he fixed Damen with was like he was expecting something. After a long moment, he tilted his head, pointedly nodding to his groin, “Like being on top, do you?”  
  
Damen sucked in a breath. “Yes.” He had never wanted it more. The idea of Laurent, stretched out beneath him, was almost more than he could stand. His hand went to touch before he could stop it, couldn't help himself, felt the taut muscles and the soft skin of his stomach. Laurent smiled, a more pleasant smile than he had turned on him so many times in the past.  
  
“Let's see how well you can perform, then. You're not finished.” Laurent splayed himself out, lazily peering up at him. Expectant. He quirked a brow at him. “Well? I'm waiting.”  
  
Damen couldn't remember ever having such a demanding bed partner, but it didn't even remotely halt his need or want. His eyes moved down his form, going to the boots that still remained on Laurent's legs. Slowly he moved to them, letting his hands trail on his calves, undoing the lacing and pulling the first away. Laurent accepted the service like one to whom service was owed, speaking not a word as he brought the other leg to Damen's hands, allowing him access to remove the second boot in turn.  
  
Damen moved then to his body, overcome with a desire to continue to serve, to please, to _attend_. His hands reached with desperation for the drawstrings of his pants, adjusting his body so that his lips were hovering near, as he pulled back the fabric to reveal Laurent's erection, stiff and inviting.  
  
Laurent sat up slightly, frowning, his gaze cooling slightly. “I am not going to reciprocate.” He spoke clearly, and Damen looked up at him with some amount of confusion.  
  
“And?” His mind couldn't quite grasp the point of the words... all he knew was he had a burning need to service him, to give Laurent the pleasure he had already given him, to attend to his needs.  
  
“If you want to suck my cock, ask me for permission.” Laurent's voice was hard as steel, and Damen felt something in himself give even further at the disciplinary nature of his words. He drew in a long breath, his tongue aching to taste.  
  
“Please, Laurent... I want to pleasure you. May I?” This was new territory. He'd never felt so far from in control in the bedroom before, never felt so much at the helpless mercy of his lover. It was a strange feeling, but one that only served to heighten his arousal, pooling a thrum of energy in his gut.  
  
Laurent laid back against the headboard, his legs slowly spreading, his gaze on him appraising. “Very well.”  
  
Damen descended upon him like a man half starved. He found he could not hold back the rush of need, lips moving to take his cock, to feel him on his tongue, to taste him. He felt Laurent's body stiffen under him, heard him gasp softly at the experience of pleasure, and it encouraged him to continue, pushing down on it to take all of him into his mouth. His hands moved to his hips to draw him in deeper, felt his own face flush as he began to suck.  
  
He looked up to watch with rapt attention every minute trembling of Laurent's body, and every small expression that passed his features. Laurent was by far the most _controlled_ bed partner he had ever taken. He could feel, as he moved into a rhythm, the way his body was responding, tightening, his fists clenching in the sheets, but Laurent made barely a sound. It made Damen all the more determined to draw from him even the slightest gasps and twitches, the small signs of his pleasure.  
  
He drew his tongue around him, watched every time Laurent's body twitched at his ministrations, and felt a surge of accomplishment to draw a moan from his lips. Laurent was hard to please; it made him work all the harder to do it.  
  
He thought that he'd brought him close to the brink, when he felt Laurent's fingers in his hair, pulling him up and off of him. “That's enough.” Laurent breathed the words, and Damen thought there was some difficulty in his voice, but the gaze he fixed him with was still as in control as ever.  
  
Laurent drew up slowly upwards, until Damen was layed on top of him. He found himself suddenly unbearably aware of his own arousal, the aching between his legs, the yearning for flesh. Laurent's body under his was warm, inviting, firm but giving. He couldn't help a whimper passing his lips as he felt him, all of him, underneath him, felt his skin against his own.  
  
“Laurent...” he breathed, waiting with bated breath. Laurent was in control here, Laurent was the one dictating how this happened. He waited.  
  
“What do you want?” The words were gently spoken, and Laurent sounded more affectionate than he had perhaps ever heard him before. More soft, more intimate.  
  
“I want to be inside you.” The admission came easily, as though a dam had been opened, finally releasing his desires. His hands moved to the hem of Laurent's pants, waiting for the permission he sought. His body trembled, barely held back, only pausing on Laurent's pleasure.  
  
Laurent's lips found his for a brief moment, almost chaste considering the things they had just shared, before he leaned in to whisper in his ear. _“Yes.”_  
  
That one word destroyed all restraint he had had. He surged forward, moving to catch Laurent's lips in his own, kissing him deeply as he pulled down the fabric of his pants, hastily freeing his legs of their confinement. This was not the slow, practices act of an attendant, this was the hasty, need filled fumblings of a desperate lover, casting the offending clothing aside with little care to where they might land.  
  
His hands moved between his legs, travelling lower, seeking out that hot opening, pressing a careful, tentative finger into him. He felt a bubbling of nervousness, a feeling he hadn't experienced since his first time, uncertain and hopeful of what he would find in the experience before him. He felt Laurent's body stiffen at his entrance, and heard the soft exhale of breath as his finger slipped fully inside of him.  
  
He was tight, his whole body tense, and Damen slowly worked to loosen him, to coax that tension to relax at the touch of his hand. Damen wanted nothing but to please him, to soothe and to give him the pleasure he himself was feeling at this strange, but long desired, union. Laurent's breathing was uneven, his body tense underneath him, and his cock still hard and waiting.  
  
Finally he withdrew his fingers, eyes going to meet Laurent's, and Laurent's gaze was heavy with intent, with want. Slowly, Laurent drew from the bedside table a small bottle, and Damen watched as he extended it towards him, carefully pressing it into his hand. The wordless exchange was clear; Laurent was telling him that he was ready. Damen slowly poured oil onto his hand, moving then to apply it first to himself, and then to Laurent, who shuddered at the sensastion.  
  
Then he lined himself up, and began to press forwards. He gasped, unable to restrain himself, moaning as his length slowly but surely bottomed out inside of him. Laurent's back had arched, and his lips were parted in a breathless, wordless whimper of pleasure. Damen had never felt sex to be intimate, so _personal_ , before. It was as though he belonged to Laurent, in a way he had never belonged to any other lover before him. They had always, until now, belonged solely to _him._  
  
“Laurent...” He breathed as he began to thrust, his hips moving into Laurent's oiled heat, pressing deeper with every single movement he made. He whimpered, barely able to comprehend that it was him making those noises, those sounds that sounded so like every slave he had ever fucked. He felt himself collapsing on top of Laurent then, wanting to be closer to him, to be more possessed by him, to give himself over completely to him. He caught his lips in another kiss, insistent and pleading, begging for more.  
  
“Steady, steady.” Laurent whispered in his ear, and Damen immediately obeyed, stilling his movements to a slower pace, eager to give Laurent exactly the kind of lover a Prince deserved. “There, that's good... just like that.” Laurent's words encouraged him, and he found himself moaning at the thought of doing well, of pleasing him. He focused on hilting in the way that Laurent's hands guided him, focused on his pleasure, on his cues.  
  
“Laurent!” He gasped, his pleasure mounting as Laurent's breath began to come in short gasps as well. It was not far off, now, not for either of them. He wanted, needed, to reach that pinnacle, needed to take his lover there with him. His voice rang out, filling the room in tandem with Laurent's own moans of pleasure, as both of them finally toppled off the edge of that precipice, falling into pure ecstasy, both of them grasping at the other, their arms entangling and their pleasure merging until Damen was not certain where he ended and Laurent began.

 


	5. BOOK 3 CHAPTER 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Damen confronts Laurent after Charcy, Laurent commands him once again to kneel before him. Damen does it.  
>  _\-- This takes place during Chapter 3 of King's Rising, and is an alternate version of the second scene --_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a scene that haunted me for a long time after reading the books. Although Laurent does control the field here in canon, I wanted more give from Damen, and more glimpse into Laurent's thoughts. So, what if Damen _had_ knelt for him then? How Laurent might respond seemed like a good way to see some more of his inner conflict.

**“Kneel then.” Laurent's gaze kept hold of his own as he spoke, slowly, with perfect enunciation so there could be no mistaking his words. “Kiss my boot.”**  
  
Damen's emotions were reeling. After everything they had been through, that command came back to haunt him with a vengeance. A command of possession, of ownership, intended to humiliate. To hurt. The pain churned inside of him as he remembered the previous times that Laurent had said those words to him.  
  
And yet, this time, it didn't feel the same. This time it didn't feel like an attempt to bring him low, to taunt or lord victory over him, despite what Laurent likely wanted him to think. This time the idea didn't burn his pride or make him cringe in shame. This wasn't Laurent, who had had him flogged to the brink of death, or Laurent, who had had him drugged before sending him into a ring match to be raped.  
  
No, this was Laurent, who had taken counsel from him over weeks of campaign, who had travelled with him and trusted him with his plans and his confidence. Laurent, who had saved his life and made him Captain of his men. Laurent, who had taken him to his bed on their last night together.  
  
As much as their current standing pained him, he couldn't belive the barbed words that Laurent was throwing at him. He knew him well enough now to know that to Laurent, words were weapons to be wielded, and conversations were his battlefields. Damen drew himself up, gathered his resolve, and slowly sank to his knees.  
  
He maintained eye contact with him as he did so, and watched the almost imperceptible widening of Laurent's eyes. His knees softly came to rest on the ground, and a long moment hung between them, where the only sound in the room was of their breaths seemingly in tandem. Damen felt like this one moment was perhaps even more intimate, more raw than their lovemaking had been, laying him bare finally to the purest form of submission: love.  
  
He finally lowered his eyes and bowed his head, reaching with his hands for Laurent's foot. Laurent didn't pull away from him, but also didn't move to grant him easy access, instead letting Damen do as he would without comment. Damen pulled his boot forward with his hand on the heel, before he slowly pressed a kiss to the top of his toes.  
  
Then another. And another. He felt emotion choking in his throat as he did so, as he lavished the affection and attentions on him. For one impossible moment Damen thought about what it would be like to abandon everything just to really be Laurent's slave.  
  
The moment was dashed when Laurent grasped him by the hair, pulling him hard and suddenly up, and the back of his hand swept across his face. Damen felt abruptly shocked, pain filling his heart and his chest again as he looked up into Laurent's eyes. The Veretian Prince was glaring down at him with a look of anger that Damen couldn't recall ever seeing before. It wasn't the fury he'd worn in the baths or at the flogging post. No, it was something different, colouring his cheeks red, his brows narrowed and his eyes widened in shocked disbelief.  
  
Laurent hadn't expected him to kneel.  
  
_“Get up.”_ Laurent spat the words at him, with a tone that was more shaken than hate filled. Damen felt wave after wave of fresh feelings washing through him; hurt, bitter resignation... disappointment that after everything, they still had this invisible wall between them that Laurent would not let them dismantle.  
  
“You are _not_ a slave.” Laurent continued, his face still flushed with his own storming emotions, and a peculiar catch in his voice. “Do not think that this empty display is either desired, or sufficient to fool me. You are the King of Akeilos. You killed my brother, and you currently hold my fort. And now, I will parlay with you, as one _King_ to another.”  
  
Damen felt like he was at the brink of falling apart, but forced himself to hold himself together as he rose to his feet. Took a deep breath to stave off the tears that were threatening to shed. Laurent could keep his composure under any and all forms of duress; Damen would do the same. His voice steady, he met his eyes again, and spoke. “Why did you call me here?”  
  
Laurent considered him for a moment, and then his face smoothed, the anger that had been moments before so readily displayed gone. Replaced with his usual expression of cool control.   
  
**“Didn't you know?” He sneered at him, “My Uncle is in Akeilos.”**

 


	6. BOOK 3 CHAPTER 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damen and Laurent reconnect for the first time after Damen's true identity is out in the open.  
>  _\-- This takes place during Chapter 12 of King's Rising, and is an alternate version of the final scene --_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second smut scene! Again, I wanted to create a version where Laurent takes more control, and cement a D/s kind of relationship between them in Damen's submission post-slavery.

**“Because he was false,” said Damen, “and you are true. I have never known a truer man.” He said, into the stillness, “I think if I gave you my heart, you would treat it tenderly.”**  
  
“Don’t,” said Laurent, “toy with me. I- have not the means to- defend against this.” He was looking at him like his heart was going to break, like he couldn't comprehend Damen's confession.  
  
Damen shook his head, the emotion of the moment suddenly making his voice catch in this throat. “I don’t toy with you.” He looked at Laurent sitting beside him, trying to will him to understand that he wasn't trying to fool him. Laurent's words had been an echo of how he knew Laurent approached everything in his life; as a battle to be defended and bolstered against.

But love was not a battlefield, and Damen's words were never weapons. Laurent, gazing at him, seemed to wordlessly come to an understanding of that fact, slowly considering him. Finally, Laurent's eyes lowered to his lips.  
  
“Kiss me.” He murmured the words, and though it was a request, Damen felt it as a command, and his heart sang. He reached for him, taking his hand in his. Everything in him wanted to descend upon him, to ravish him and kiss him breathless, but he knew somehow that that would not be right. It was too needy, too possessive, too aggressive for this situation. No, this moment required something more than just blind passion. It required... _reverence._  
  
He took his hand and slowly drew it to his lips, pressing them to the palm, and watched Laurent's eyes never leave him. Damen broke the kiss in increments, letting the skin of Laurent's hand pass over his like a lover. Laurent drew in a breath. “At Ravenel...” Laurent began, almost hesitantly, “It had been a long time since I had- With anyone. There has only ever been one other person.”  
  
“I'm a little more experienced than that.” Damen spoke softly, so as not to shatter the intimacy of the moment, terrified that he would wake to this being nothing but a dream.

Laurent smiled in response. “Yes, that is immediately apparent.”  
  
“Is it?” Damen brightened, pleased and not a little flattered that Laurent had noticed. Laurent let fall a small peal of laughter, still watching him, his eyes studying his face.  
  
“Yes.” Before Damen could comprehend, Laurent had closed the gap between them, and he felt his lips pressed to his own. Laurent again kissed like he was on the battlefield, like the embrace was an attack, and Damen felt all too happy to surrender himself to it's assault. He let Laurent claim him, possess him the way that he himself might have possessed any number of previous lovers. Like a Prince claiming his conquest.

When Laurent broke the kiss, he peered at him with a searching look, one that was open and unguarded. “You are not my slave. You are a man.” At that, Damen felt his heart surge at the feeling of being so known. It was as though Laurent was seeing him in this moment for the first time; seeing him as who he truly was. The reality of who they both were was open now. This, before him, was the man who had had him whipped. And _he_ was the man who had killed Laurent's brother. “Damianos.”  
  
The word on Laurent's lips sent a shock of emotion through Damen. _Damianos_. It meant there was no longer any secrets between them. The layer of deception that he had worn for so long was stripped away, and Damen felt naked because of it. There was so much between them now. How long had he yearned for this, desired for Laurent to know him, to truly know him, to take to his bed not the Akeilon slave, but King Damianos.  
  
But of course, those were the same person. And somewhere along the line, he'd stopped thinking of them as separate.

“Out there, all those people, when they look at me, they see the King of Akeilos.” He spoke slowly, watching Laurent for any hint of his thoughts. “But here, alone with you... sometimes I wish I _could_ just be your slave.” He didn't want to be a nameless slave who's identity was hidden... but he also found he didn't like the way Laurent had held him at an arms distance ever since his identity had become public. He didn't want to be the nameless slave, _or_ King Damianos right now. Right now he wanted to be _Damen._

And Damen, he realized, would _always_ be Laurent's slave.  
  
Laurent was gazing at him as though deep in thought. Then, he moved to push him, gently, guiding him down onto the bed, and in the same motion pull the pin from his garment, unfurling the cloth. Damen felt himself flush as Laurent lingered over top of him, his eyes roaming his naked skin. His own breath was beginning to come in heavy, his heart beating hard in his chest.  
  
He was suddenly very aware that he was naked, laying back on the bed underneath Laurent. In a moment of vulnerability, he half feared that Laurent might get up, wander off, leave him barred and aching for him on the bed. It would be a cruel act of dominance, one that would be quite like Laurent. But Laurent didn't do that.  
  
_“Attend_ me, then.” Laurent murmured instead, and Damen felt a swell of emotion at the words. No, the _command_. He felt instantly transported back in time, to their long campaign together, to the nights in Laurent's tent spent serving him, as a slave to a Prince. _Attend me_. It was the most intimate form of service, and one that Damen felt hungry now to give.

He reached out to undo the laces at Laurent's neck, slowly and reverently drawing open his clothes, just as he had done the last time they had been in bed together. But this time there were no hidden walls between them; this time they knew each other, and neither of them was playing a part.  
  
Slowly, he undressed him. Slowly, he drew him open, revealing skin, discarding garments like they were an obstruction. As he did, Laurent moved to position himself entirely astride him, his hands pressed on his chest, moving across his skin in exploration. Fingers lightly drew over the scar where Auguste had run him through, the mark of that final battle. The last thing Auguste had done before Damen had killed him.  
  
Laurent leaned over him, pressing his lips to the marked flesh, and Damen felt it like a knife. He knew it was painful, for both of them, could feel the way that Laurent's body held itself uncomfortably at this silent recognition of agony. And yet, he let himself feel it, as Laurent let himself feel it in his turn.  
  
Then, he felt Laurent's hand on him, slowly moving between his legs. He gasped as it wrapped around him, pulling at him, and he felt helpless all over again, remembering the last time Laurent had touched him like this. “Oh, Laurent...” He drew in a shaking breath, as Laurent angled himself over top of him.  
  
He pushed himself up on his elbows as he realized what Laurent was trying to do. “We don't have any oil.” He protested, even as he felt the tip of his cock at Laurent's entrance.  
  
Laurent shrugged, one hand holding him down and the other guiding his length. “I don't care.”  
  
“Wait. I'll...” Damen looked around, casting his eyes about the room for something, anything. Then his attention rested on the oil lamp beside the bed. There was a loud crashing sound as he picked it up, smashing it and watching the fire die out. The room dimmed as he dipped his fingers clumsily in the oil, and then brought them to his erection, slowly coating it. He looked back up at Laurent, who was waiting patiently. “Here.”  
  
Laurent nodded, and then would not be further dissuaded. His hips moved backwards, unmistakably fucking himself onto him, and the sudden penetration had Damen gasping for breath. He felt nothing but the tightness of Laurent, the weight and the feel of him on top of him, sitting down onto him, and it was too much. He moaned, groaning as he watched the Prince of Vere begin to ride him.  
  
It was so good, Damen felt like he would loose himself to the sensations. Laurent moved, his hips going back and forth, and it was like he was made for it. He could hear Laurent's breathing now, and he began to move in tandem with him, reaching for him, touching him, drawing him nearer.  
  
“Laurent.. _. Laurent...”_ He heard himself babbling, his lips on his lover's neck. “I want you... I've wanted you for so long... I'm your slave, just your slave _, Laurent...”_ He felt like the emotion of the moment would suffocate him, a strangled choke in his voice as he spoke, as Laurent moved and he felt himself buried deep inside of him. Laurent was panting too, his hands on his body, on his skin, his weight on top of him.  
  
“Damen...” Laurent whispered his name, and Damen felt like he would be undone just to hear it. “Damen...” The word was a chant of love and possession, and now, for the first time since his brothers betrayal had destroyed his entire world, Damen felt whole, here in Laurent's arms.  
  
He cried out in rapture as he came, and was aware of Laurent, too, groaning in tandem with him. It was as though their breath was shared, in sync, their bodies meshing once again as both of them reached the height of bliss, together.

 


	7. BOOK 3 CHAPTER 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damen and Laurent explore their relationship further.  
>  _\-- This takes place during Chapter 15 of King's Rising, and is an alternate version of the second scene --_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand lastly, the final sex scene. I wanted to really cement the idea of Damen still behaving as Laurent's slave while in private, and some light bondage and roleplay does the trick. This is the last of the scenes needed to change their overall dynamic in the canon of the story!
> 
> As for the side stories, I don't want to do a re-write of The Summer Palace, but suffice to say that I don't think it fits with my shifted dynamic here, so in this version it doesn't factor at all.

**Damen pushed himself away from the wall.**  
  
He approached Laurent with a certain amount of awkwardness that he couldn't remember feeling with a lover before, a hesitancy that made him feel all but virginal again. His breath was still ragged, shallow, his body still feeling the aftershocks of orgasm. He was trembling as he moved towards where Laurent stood. “Let me attend you.”  
  
His voice was strangely raw, and he felt like a child seeking approval. Laurent didn't move to stop him or deny him, so he reached out to grasp the lacing, once again drawing him out of his clothes bit by bit, layer by layer. Laurent moved to grant him access, silently accepting his service, at each point in the process.   
  
“If things had been different...” Laurent began, his voice penetrating the stillness of the room. Damen had knelt now, and was drawing his boots from his feet with slow, careful movements.   
  
“I would have courted you.” He answered, and he turned for a moment to press a kiss to Laurent's calf, nuzzling the leather the same way the slave that had served him at Delpha had done. “With all the grace and courtesy that you deserve. There would have been no lies between us, not ever.” The lacing came undone in his hands, and the boot slipped from Laurent's foot.  
  
“But things were not different.” He could still hear the strain in Laurent's voice, the pain of remembered past and the struggle to accept the present.  
  
“No...” He rose to his feet, meeting Laurent's eyes. “Laurent, I can't court you. But if you will have me, I will forever be your slave.”  
  
There seemed to be a moment of resistance in Laurent's eyes, before his lips parted. “Kiss me then, slave.”  
  
Damen moved forward, barely able to contain himself, and caught Laurent's lips with his own. This time Laurent did not move to overwhelm him, to take him. Instead, Laurent accepted his ministrations as one accepting a service, letting Damen set the pace himself. Damen kissed him like he'd always wanted to, hungrily, lustfully, overcome with desire. He could taste himself on Laurent's tongue, the lingering salted bitterness from what Laurent had just done to him.

Then he felt Laurent's fingers in his hair, curling just hard enough to assert dominance and possession, but not enough to hurt, as he had many times in the past. Laurent held him in place, and he deepened the kiss. Damen reached for him, to touch him, to lay his fingers against his warm skin. He felt Laurent's body pressing against his, and the closeness made him shudder with anticipation.  
  
Laurent took his hand, watching him with careful consideration, and drew it downwards, between his legs, until Damen could feel beneath his fingers the firmness of Laurent's arousal. He drew in a soft breath as he let his hand grasp hold of him, wrapping his fingers around it. “Make me cum.” Laurent whispered in his ear, and Damen could hardly hold back his own desire.  
  
He began to stroke it, up and down, letting his fingers run along it's length. He noticed as he moved, Laurent's breath was beginning to come more shallow, less controlled, if only subtly. “Like this?” He asked, eager to please.  
  
“No. _Slower.”_ Laurent's tongue lingered on the word _slower,_ and Damen recalled the time Laurent had made him lick his boots. So long ago now, but it was no longer a painful memory. Now, he wanted nothing more than to listen to Laurent's instruction and perform as he bade him. He slowed his hand, letting his fingers trail over the head and then down again, taking each moment carefully.  
  
Laurent's body was reacting. Damen could feel the muscles in his stomach clench, could watch the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing came more irregular. He felt mesmerized by him, by his beauty and his form. There was nothing about him that he didn't love, that he didn't want to worship completely. Damen felt his own arousal stiffening again, watching Laurent in all of his sensual glory.  
  
Then he felt Laurent stiffen, a resistance to pleasure, and Laurent was pushing him back, his hands on his chest. Damen stumbled backwards as he caught his breath, and before he knew it he was on his back on the bed, tumbling into the sheets with Laurent on top of him. Laurent's hands took his wrists, and pulled his arms above his head, and Damen could do nothing but stare at him in a confused stupor. Apparently Laurent had planned for this, because there were ropes attached to the headboard. Ropes which Laurent made quick use of to secure him.  
  
Damen felt a slight tremble of fear for a brief moment, before he realized that the ropes hadn't been tied tight enough that he could not escape them if he had truly fought. This was nothing like the tight bindings that he had been subject to as an actual slave, and no part of him was fooled into thinking that this was merely incompetence on Laurent's part.

This was a lover's game, and a working symbol for how their relationship was to function. Damen accepted it, his entire body buzzing with the anticipation of touch, of pleasure, of Laurent's whole and complete possession of his person. Giving himself to him in a vulnerable way that he had never given himself to anybody.

Laurent was grasping a small bottle of oil in one hand, and his cock in the other, as he moved to position himself over him. “Shall I take you, the way a man takes a slave?” He looked flushed, and Damen held his own breath for a moment as he looked down, felt Laurent at his ass, pulling his legs apart.  
  
“I've- I've never-” He hesitated. He'd never been penetrated before, never before even thought about wanting that experience, but here they were. He wanted to give Laurent everything, wanted everything from him. The feel of him inside of him... would it hurt? Would it feel good? He shuddered to imagine it, what it might be like.  
  
“Nor have I. You would be my first.” Laurent admitted, and Damen suddenly knew that he wanted it. Wanted this new experience, that neither of them had yet had, that both of them could gift to the other.   
  
“As you would be mine.” He heard himself say.

“I thought in Akeilos, a First Night was special.” Laurent repeated what he had learned at Delpha, and Damen thought of Isander, the young slave who Laurent had not so used, who had been left rejected and confused in the hallway, wondering why he had been denied the honour.  
  
“For a slave, it is.” He responded, “For a slave it means everything.”  
  
“Then let me give my slave everything.” As he spoke, Damen felt Laurent press an oil slicked finger to him, slowly sliding inside of him, and Damen let a cry leave his throat at the sensation. It was so much more than he had ever imagined, could ever have expected. He began to prepare him, as he had done to Laurent twice before, stroking him open with his fingers, a hand on his chest to sooth his whimpers and his breathing. Damen felt himself relax, _open_ for him.  
  
Another finger, and Damen couldn't believe how much sensation he felt. Had every lover he had had in the past felt like this? It felt like being torn open, but it felt good, like being filled was somehow something his body had always craved and he'd just never known it before this moment. He panted, gasped for Laurent, and flushed as he saw his eyes on him, taking him in, devouring him.  
  
Then Laurent was removing his fingers, and his cock was at his entrance, and Laurent was plunging deep into him. It tore his world apart in one smooth instance, stuffing him to bursting, and all he could do was cry out, his head going back against the pillow, his hands helplessly clenching into fists at the intensity of the experience.   
  
As Laurent fucked into him, stretching him, he found himself making sounds he had never made before, mewling into the pillow, unrestrained and uncaring. Laurent began to move faster, his eyes never leaving Damen's face, his hands on his torso, pulling him up and into each thrust. They gazed at each other, wordlessly expressing the extent of their connection, their union, now reaching a new level and a new crescendo of shared bliss.  
  
Laurent cried out first, his head tilting back and his eyes falling shut as he came, and Damen tumbled over that precipice soon after. The shock of the ecstasy tore through him, it felt different like this, untouched, only from the rhythm of Laurent's cock deep inside of him, and Damen felt like he was a changed man from the experience.  
  
They lay together in silence for a long while, Laurent collapsed on top of him, the only sound in the room that of their breathing and the pounding of their heartbeats. When Laurent stirred, it was almost with reluctance that he rose from the warmth of Damen's body, reaching over him to untie the bindings and then to stand. Damen stretched out, comfortable in the afterglow, and merely watched him as he grasped a cloth to tidy them up with.  
  
As he came to sit down again beside him, gently drawing the cloth over his stomach, Laurent's eyes went to the golden cuff that was even now still on his wrist. The one that was the perfect twin of the piece Laurent wore on his own.  
  
 **“You're still wearing it.”**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please keep in mind that these were written 100% for myself, and I fully acknowledge that this take on the characters is not the same as in canon, but its a shift in their characterization that I wanted to explore purely for my own satisfaction.


End file.
